Asymptote
by jngsjng
Summary: Opposites attract, but perhaps they had more in common than they initially thought. Ironically, it is what brings them together that keeps them so far apart. SasuHina. Oneshot of sorts.


as·ymp·tote

ˈasəm(p)ˌtōt/

noun: asymptote; plural noun: asymptotes

a line that continually approaches a given curve but does not meet it at any finite distance.

* * *

There was never a hello.

It was ironic considering they had probably known each other the longest out of any other in their group of friends. The first time they met, she was three and he was almost for, and both of their respective families were present for a private meeting with a handful of other noble clans to discuss the event of her attempted kidnapping. The two children were hidden behind their mothers' legs, her out of shyness and him out of fear (because girls have cooties, of course), and exchanged little more than curious stares covered by their matching fringe.

"I'm glad you're home safe, Hinata," his mother said kindly before nudging her son. "Right Sasuke?"

He averted his gaze to the ground and tightened his grip on her skirt, pale cheeks flushing a light pink. "Yeah," he mumbled, trying to hide his embarrassment. "Me too."

Both mothers stifled their laughs, and that was the end of their interaction. He was soon whisked away by his elder brother (or rather the other way around) and she found herself once again sitting quietly beside her younger sister as their father spoke with the other leaders in the room.

They were still young at the time. Too young to remember when they first learned each other's name (they saw each other at such gatherings often enough to assume that they just _knew_); too young to say anything more than what their parents urged them to; too young to have an opinion on the other aside from what they had been told (which, really, wasn't all that much). They were too young to even realize just how much they had in common, with the exception of one striking difference: she was the eldest daughter of Hyuuga Hiashi, and as such, heir to one of the most powerful houses in Konohagakure.

And perhaps it was because they were too young that no one could have guessed he would soon be the same.

* * *

At the age of twelve, what little else they knew of each other was not so much anything they were told, but rather what they cared enough to observe. He knew she was shy by the way she constantly stuttered, and she knew he was popular by the hoards of girls lining up at his feet. Likewise, he knew she cared for his knuckle-headed teammate, and she knew that, although he would never admit it, he cared for him all the same. It was hardly rocket science; Uzumaki Naruto was simply one of the things they would always have in common, and truthfully, the only one that had enough significance to ever bring them together. For a while, that was the extent of their relationship; she was his closest ally's secret admirer, and he was her unrequited love's dearest friend.

And then it happened.

Hinata heard the news no less than an hour after the retrieval squad had left for their mission. Not that it was hard to guess, because despite rumors of how or why it happened, there was one fact they all got right.

Uchiha Sasuke was a traitor.

This didn't affect her in the same way it did someone like Sakura, who was left broken long after her teammate's betrayal, or even Ino, who shed her own fair share of tears because of the boy. Hinata wasn't his teammate, nor was she his friend—the two could barely be considered acquaintances. The only thing that held them together was their bond with Naruto, and when the latter returned physically and mentally beaten and bleeding and bruised, she knew that tie no longer existed.

Hinata almost hated him for it. Not because of what he did, specifically, but because of the results of his actions and three instances in which she yearned for an explanation, for someone to blame: when she held Kiba's hand to comfort him as Akamaru lay barely breathing before his surgery, when her cousin was carried into the emergency room just inches from death, and when the boy she loved lost the spark in his eyes that had never once wavered until that day, because to Naruto, losing Sasuke meant losing a part of himself.

Truly, she almost hated him.

In the end, she, in fact, did not.

It wasn't in her nature to hold grudges, after all, and despite the odds that urged her to do otherwise, she tried her best not to judge the avenger for his sins. Naruto, of course, played a large part in this—for as long as he believed in his teammate she would do the same—but unbeknownst to most, there had been another instance in which her faith in the Uchiha was solidified by his own actions, not by Naruto or anyone else.

It happened a couple of years ago. She was on a floating ship with a handful of civilians mere seconds away from being blown to bits and Naruto was playing hero, doing his best to save them despite the risk of his own safety. To his (and her) surprise, however, it was not him who had set them free.

"Sasuke-kun?"

"Shut up," he muttered in reply, throwing another passenger over his shoulder and into the boat.

Another life saved.

There was no time for her to thank him, no time to even think about why he did it or why he was even there in the first place, but she decided at that moment that her belief in him had not been misplaced. That was, perhaps, the first thought she had of him that was all her own.

And when they finally fell, she didn't care that there was never a goodbye.

* * *

It's Tuesday afternoon and Sasuke sits inside Ichiraku Ramen, left cheek propped onto a closed fist as he waits boredly for Naruto to arrive to yet another one of their lunch meetings (not dates—no, _never_ dates). The blonde isn't late—not yet, anyway—but there's nothing to do at home and Sakura constantly pesters him to get fresh air at least twice a day, so he figures there's no harm in being early. Fortunately the restaurant is rarely busy on weekdays—at least until the evening when civilians and shinobi alike are free to have a casual night out for dinner—so it's relatively empty aside from him and a handful of other customers.

A breeze ruffles the curtains behind him. He supposes it's nice to escape the heated stares.

Naruto assures him people no longer look, but Sasuke is far from stupid. Although his whiskered teammate had been quick to trust him again—assuming that he ever stopped—he knows that not everyone is nearly as forgiving. He is well aware of the wide-eyed glances and frantic whispers that follow him wherever he goes, and he accepts it, because he knows it's his punishment. Sasuke thinks it's for the better; never has he particularly been a people person, and after two weeks of being back in Konoha, he realizes that that much has not changed.

Ironically, he finds solace in the least likely of places: none other than Ichiraku Ramen itself. He had initially received the same treatment from the staff and other customers as he did from the rest of the villagers, but an outburst from a furious Naruto just a few days earlier had silenced the murmurs and averted even the most accusing of glares. At the time, Sasuke rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh, but in truth he was—and still is—thankful to have someone _care_ despite it all.

After another few minutes of waiting, he decides that there's no harm in eating first, since he's certain the blonde—who is late _now_—would be slurping down noodles long after he is finished with his meal regardless. He's just about to place his order when someone quietly calls his name.

"Hello, Sasuke-kun."

He tenses and whirls around immediately, the voice and chakra signature not quite familiar to him, (granted the only ones who ever come this close to him when he is without Naruto or Sakura are Naruto and Sakura themselves), but relaxes the muscles in his shoulders when he recognizes the Hyuuga heiress sitting a few seats away from him. He stares at her, quiet and calculating, before he remembers his manners and nods curtly in return.

"Hinata," he says. Her name sounds almost like a question as it slips from his tongue, one that she answers with the slightest curl of her lips. "Hello."

The quiet chatter in the background fills the silence that would have surely enveloped them otherwise, and Sasuke takes the time to wonder what caused her to speak to him in the first place. She's not Lee, who would have felt obliged to say hi, or Kiba, who would have perhaps challenged him to a friendly spar, and she is most certainly not Sakura or Naruto. He thinks, maybe, that it's just her nature to be polite, and as he looks back to the very few instances in which he had taken notice of her in the past, he settles for that thought.

"It's been a while, hasn't it?" she finally speaks, and her words remind him that this is the first he has seen her since returning. He prepares himself for the small talk concerning his absence, not that he really cares anymore; he's grown accustomed to the questions of those brave enough to approach him. _How are you?_ he expects mostly. _Nice to see you, welcome back, where's Sakura? Where's Naruto?_

She says none of that.

"I'm glad you're home safe," Hinata murmurs.

He glances at her once, his head tilting slightly in subtle surprise, and for a moment he remembers the girl he met for the first time so long ago—meek and fragile and nothing more than a name. Even now her voice is a mere whisper in the wind, so quiet that even his superior hearing can barely pick it up, but the smile on her face is genuine and there is no trace of uncertainty on her face. He doesn't remember enough about her to notice any changes in her physical features aside from her once short hair—which, he muses, is now longer than even Sakura's had been—but he can acknowledge that she is not the same girl he once knew.

Well, sort of knew.

He doesn't feel guilty about being unfamiliar with her; in the three years he was away, the girl before him had never once crossed his mind, and he doesn't feel guilty about that, either, because there's no reason to dwell on someone he's spoken to maybe twice in his life. But then another second passes and he's briefly reminded of another Hyuuga—albeit taller and obviously male—and the thought causes Sasuke to wonder, if only for a moment, how she's doing, if she's _okay_. It's such a human response that he almost voices aloud how grateful he is to her for having elicited it, for having proven that he is still very much a person who is capable of caring and no longer the monster that so many others make him out to be. Almost, of course, because although he finds it in himself to care, he still can't find it in himself to enjoy simple conversation.

Instead, he shrugs, and brilliantly manages a reply.

"Yeah," he says. "Me too."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

I'm a supporter of SasuSaku through and through, but my friend jokingly dared me to write something about this pairing, and I happened to accept the challenge.


End file.
